


Hippocratic Oath

by likeadubu



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Medical Procedures, Mention of Death, chaeyoung is a plastic surgeon, dahyun is a cardiothoracic surgeon, description of death, jeongyeon is a family medicine doctor, jihyo is a general surgeon, jk theres some unrequited love ahaha, just a good ol' platonic story, mina is a neurologist, momo is an orthopedic surgeon, nayeon is an anethesiologist, sana is a pediatrician, twice as doctors, tzuyu is a gastroenterologist, yes this will be sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeadubu/pseuds/likeadubu
Summary: Upon becoming doctors, an oath has to be taken. Under this oath, doctors swear to uphold specific ethical standards. What happens if emotions get in the way of ethics?
Relationships: just a bunch of pals
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

_ So long as I maintain this Oath faithfully and without corruption, may it be granted to me to partake of life fully and the practice of my art, gaining the respect of all men for all time. However, should I transgress this Oath and violate it, may the opposite be my fate. _

…

Jihyo entered the hospital for the first time in the day to start her shift. She had a couple procedures to take care of and some patients to visit, but other than that, it would be an easy day. She pulled her white coat on over her scrubs and made her way to the nurse station. The most senior nurse spun around in her chair at the sound of the footsteps. Her eyes stayed on the clipboard in her hands as she began to speak.

“Alright Dr. Park, so for the first procedure, we’ll get two nurses and one of the surgical residents to scrub in with you, and Dr. Im will handle the anesthesia,” the head nurse said as she tried to pass a clipboard to her.

Jihyo tucked her hands under her arms to keep her from giving it to her. The nurse stared back with tired eyes and a blank expression. They’ve gone over this before.

“I just want doctors in surgery with me. Dr. Im will be enough,” Jihyo said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You do realize residents are doctors, right?” 

“I want experienced doctors with me. I’ve been without extra people in the O.R. plenty of times. I don’t need the dead weight.”

The nurse rolled her eyes so far back she could probably see the brain cells her superior was frying. She turned to toss the clipboard onto the desk and brought her hands up to rub her temples.

“Fine, but if anything happens in there, it’s going on your record, not mine,” she finally groaned.

“Thank you. Nothing but a successful surgery is going to happen,” Jihyo reassured the nurse.

The nurse went back to the computer she was on a moment ago and Jihyo pulled her phone from her coat pocket. She selected the familiar contact and brought the device to her ear.

“Park, what’s up? I just finished placing an epidural,” Nayeon’s chipper voice answered after the second ring.

Jihyo and Nayeon had known each other ever since Nayeon transferred to the hospital a few years ago. Seeing that anesthesiologists and surgeons work closely together, they became close friends almost immediately. They have taken vacations with each other’s families and spent much time outside of work hanging out with each other.

“Im, I need you for surgery in an hour. I’ll send you the details,” Jihyo said, making her way to her office so she could email Nayeon the patient’s details and the information concerning the procedure.

It was a simple operation. A man in his mid-forties was getting his gallbladder removed after an extensive history of troublesome gallstones. It would last no more than 2 hours from the first incision to the final stitch.

Jihyo finally got back to her office and emailed Nayeon the files.

“Alright I just sent them,” Jihyo said into the phone, switching it from her right ear to her left.

“Nice, thank you, I’ll open it right now,” Nayeon replied, placing her phone on her desk.

Jihyo could hear the faint mouse clicking over the phone. For a moment, the line went silent.

“Jihyo?” Nayeon brought the phone back up to the side of her face.

“Yes?”

“You don’t have any nurses or other doctors on the file. We talked about having the extra help in the O.R. in case something happens.”

“And I told you I don’t need anyone else.”

“I don’t want to argue with you, but this really isn’t a good idea.”

“I’ll see you in the operating room. Go get scrubbed in,” Jihyo said quickly before hanging up on her.

She ran a hand through her hair and let out a long sigh. She rested her elbows on the desk and slowly rubbed her eyes. After a moment, she leaned back in her chair, letting her eyes fixate on a small framed photograph she kept on the shelf above her computer monitor. The recognizable smile and disheveled hair brought the too well-known pang to her chest. The familiar printed eyes stared back at her, but before she could reach out to touch it, her phone buzzed. Nayeon was probably asking where she was. Jihyo shoved the phone into her pocket and left the room, but not without taking a moment to glance at the photo one more time.

She met Nayeon at the sink where she had just finished washing her hands. Jihyo pumped some of the liquid soap into her palm, the strong smell permeating her nostrils, and started scrubbing her skin with one of the dry brushes. Nayeon stood to the side as a scrub tech pulled the rubber gloves onto her hands. She watched her friend hunched over the sink for a moment.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Nayeon said bluntly.

“I thought you didn’t want to argue,” Jihyo said as she started to flick the water off her hands and back into the basin..

“All I’m saying is that you need to think this through, Jihyo. You’re a smart woman. Use your brain for once,” Nayeon stated.

The scrub tech began to help Jihyo into the gown and pulled the gloves onto her hands. She tied the mask at the back of her head and placed a plastic shield on her face.

“We’re doing the surgery how I planned it, Nayeon. Just be glad I’m having you do this with me instead of someone else,” Jihyo said with her arms bent up to keep her hands sterile.

Nayeon shrugged before muttering under her breath, “Glad you picked me to watch a dumpster fire.”

Once inside the cool air of the operating room, Nayeon looked over the monitors that were set up by the physician assistants before they left the room. She checked the IVs and took note of how much was left in the hanging bags.

“We have some time before I need to replace the propofol, but it looks like he’s on a slightly higher dose.” Nayeon squinted at the lines on the plastic bag.

“Sounds good to me,” Jihyo pulled the tray of instruments closer to her. She lifted the drape and picked up one of the larger scalpels. She took a deep breath, creating a light fog on her plastic face shield, and once the fog had finally cleared she made the first incision. 

The surgery was moving swimmingly for the first half hour. Nayeon was closely monitoring the numbers and lines bouncing up and down on the screen and glanced up at the drip, quietly noting, “Looks like I’ll have to replace it sooner than I thought. Oh well, it’s fine.”

Nayeon sat back in her chair and turned her gaze to her friend for a moment. If only she’d let others in, perhaps she would be able to put the pieces back together. However, a shattered vase is never the same even when the fragments are glued together. There will always be gaps and pieces forgotten. Unfortunately for Jihyo, the most important piece is gone forever.

A splatter of scarlet on Jihyo’s face shield tore her from her thoughts.

“Nayeon! Help me!”

“What? What do you want me to do?” Nayeon stood quickly, knocking her chair over.

“Clamp that artery or he’ll bleed out!”

Nayeon reached across the patient and grabbed the hemostat. She scanned the scene for the site of the bleeding. She felt a hand brush lightly against her hip. It couldn’t have been Jihyo, because both of her hands were applying pressure to the artery, trying to stop the bleeding. Nayeon’s eyes darted to the head of the patient. His eyes were moving beneath his eyelids. He started to sway from side to side.

“Nayeon! Clamp him now!” Jihyo ordered.

“He’s light! I need to up the dosage!” Nayeon stuttered out, torn between Jihyo’s demands and her own responsibilities.

The patient’s blood pressure began to accelerate. Not only was the bleeding increasing at a rapid rate, but he was gradually coming back to consciousness.

“Clamp him now or he dies,” Jihyo spat.

Nayeon reached in with shaking hands and mustered up her strength to close the blood vessel. That would give Jihyo enough time to suture it back together. She then rushed around to the IV stand and switched out the empty bag for a new one. She turned to the machine and turned up the dosage. She grabbed an extra bag of saline and started a line on his arm, making sure he was hydrated enough to replace the lost blood. His vitals gradually returned to normal, but for good measure, Nayeon emptied a syringe of ketamine into the line in hopes of making him forget what happened.

Jihyo quickly stitched up the patient and placed the dressings on him. She leaned lightly against the table and glared at Nayeon.

“No one will know about this,” Jihyo started. “He won’t remember any of this, will he?”

“No, he shouldn’t.” Nayeon slumped over in her chair after removing all the tubes and electrodes from the patient’s body.

Without another word, Jihyo called some nurses to take him to the post-op room. He would make a full recovery, and as Jihyo said, no one would find out about what happened.

Once out of the operating room and their surgical garb, Jihyo pulled Nayeon into one of the empty call rooms by the sleeve of her scrubs.

“He could have bled out and it’d be all because of you!” Jihyo screamed now that they were alone.

“Because of me? You were the one who severed an artery!” Nayeon shot back.

“He moved because you didn’t monitor him closely enough!”

“I would have if you didn’t need me to clamp the artery!”

“What else was I supposed to do? Let him die?”

“Let other people help you! Who in their right mind would try to perform an operation with no other help in case something like that were to happen?”

“I don’t need anyone else! I can do it all on my own!”

“Apparently not.”

“Yes I can. I don’t need people getting in my way!”

“Then stop blaming everything on me for once!”

“You know, if you had a better track record, maybe everything wouldn’t be your fault.”

“It’s not my fault Jihoon died on the table!” Nayeon screamed back, turning the air around them into ice.

She quickly covered her mouth with her hands. Jihyo’s glare burned two holes into her colleague’s face. The words hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity before either one of them made a movement or sound.

“Keep my son’s name out of your mouth,” Jihyo hissed before hurriedly leaving the room, her bottom lip quivering and tears streaming down Nayeon’s face.

Once out of the room, she rushed to find the nearest empty hallway where she could finally break down without anyone seeing her. She leaned against the white wall and slid down it until she hit the cold tile floor. Aggressive sobs tore through her whole body. She bunched the bottom of her shirt in her hands and wrung it until her knuckles turned white. Her tears clouded her vision as she openly wailed on the hospital tiles. Crying in a hospital is not uncommon, but it takes a lot for the head of surgery to be the one doing it.

…

“They were huge! Each one was bigger than my head!” Chaeyoung excitedly told Tzuyu as she made exaggerated hand motions.

Tzuyu was only half-listening to her friend until she saw Dahyun walking through the break room with her lunch bag in hand, scanning the room for an empty seat. Their tall friend held up her hand until Dahyun’s eyes lit up when she saw them and hurried over to sit at their table.

“Hey guys, how was your morning?” she asked once she sat beside Tzuyu and across from Chaeyoung.

“Chae was just telling me a riveting story about, um, something riveting,” Tzuyu stumbled through an answer.

“I did the most insane breast reduction today,” Chaeyoung piped up again, excitedly telling her friends all about her morning.

Dahyun, Chaeyoung, and Tzuyu had known each other since middle school and had even attended the same university. They each eventually specialized into their respective fields, but had managed to work in the same hospital ever since. They were only residents, but they had each proved themselves time and time again of their remarkable skills in their fields, allowing them to take on more advanced procedures.

“How was that transplant you did a while ago?” Tzuyu asked Dahyun once Chaeyoung finished her story for the second time that lunch break. “I remember you said you were worried about it.”

“Oh yeah,” Dahyun said with a cheek full of a half-chewed apple. “She’s doing really well post-op. She might even get to go home in a few days.”

“That’s great, Dahyun. I’ll always be amazed how something as tragic as death can help give someone an extra chance at life,” Tzuyu said after taking a sip from her water bottle.

“Yeah, I guess I wish that the death didn’t have to happen in the first place though.” Dahyun’s face fell a little.

“It comes with the job, but I don’t think it’ll ever get less depressing,” Chaeyoung said, reaching across the table to give her friend a pat on the back of the hand. “Say, did they ever tell you whose heart it was?”

“They gave me the basic information like age, sex, cause of death, stuff like that, but even if I did know exactly who it was, I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you. You know, HIPAA violations are kind of a big deal,” she answered dismissively.

“Oh yeah, sorry about that,” Chaeyoung said, shrinking back into her chair.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dahyun said as she gave her friend a sad smile.

Almost on cue, the three of their phones began to buzz, signalling their lunch break was almost over. They stood to clean up their trash and pull their white coats back on.

“We’re still on for pizza at my place tonight, right?” Tzuyu asked as they walked out of the break room together.

“Of course! I wouldn’t spend my Friday nights with anyone else!” Chaeyoung exclaimed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dahyun give a small nod, keeping her eyes fixed ahead of her.

“Alright, I’ll see you guys tonight,” Tzuyu said before giving a small wave and turning down a hallway to her office.

Dahyun and Chaeyoung had a little while longer to walk together before they would have to split up and go to their respective departments. The younger of the two draped an arm across her friend’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry for pushing you to talk about it back in there. That totally wasn’t okay,” Chaeyoung said, casting her eyes to the floor.

“Hey, Chae, it’s okay. It’s just something that’s a little sensitive for me to talk about,” Dahyun said, reaching up to grab the hand on her shoulder. “The kid who died was really young. I just hate to think about what he and his family had to go through, especially after reading his file.”

They came to the end of the hallway with halls to their departments branching off of it. They stood there for a moment together, absorbing the hospital itself. The smell of rubbing alcohol invaded their nostrils and the faint sound of crying echoed throughout the corridors. They stood in a thick silence for a moment before Chaeyoung broke it.

“Dahyun, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know,” she whispered, barely audible.

Her friend turned to her and wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug. For a moment, Chaeyoung was taken aback by the sudden action, but she soon melted into the embrace. She inhaled the faint scent of baby powder on her collar and her tense muscles relaxed. She had never felt safer anywhere than in the presence of her best friend.

“It’s okay. I forgive you. Everything is okay,” Dahyun whispered back, giving her a small squeeze. “I’ll see you at Tzuyu’s place tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” Chaeyoung returned the squeeze.

…

Mina walked briskly down the corridor, looking at some of the brain scans she just got back from radiology. It wasn’t a serious case or anything like that; a woman in her mid-twenties kept coming in for constant migraines, so Mina had finally decided to get her scanned to get to the root of the problem. She had only been out of residency for a little over a year and was determined to prove herself as an important player in her specialty: neurology.

As she flipped through the documents, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a mass on the ground. She would have kept walking if that mass also wasn’t producing a series of the most heart-wrenching sobs. Mina stopped walking and looked over her shoulder to see her esteemed colleague on the floor.

“Dr. Park?” she asked, slowly approaching the woman as though she was some dangerous wild animal. “Dr. Park, is everything okay? Is there something wrong?”

Her head stayed buried in her hands as her small frame shook with every breath. Mina crouched down in front of her and reached out a delicate hand, almost scared to break her.

“Jihyo? Are you okay?” Her hand made contact with her arm.

Jihyo took a few shallow breaths before bringing her bloodshot eyes up to meet Mina’s worried gaze.

“There’s something wrong,” she croaked out.

“What?” Mina was suddenly worried. “ What’s the problem? Is someone in danger?”

Jihyo lowered her head and placed both index fingers on her forehead, one above each eyebrow. She firmly tapped a few times. “There’s something wrong with me.”

“I don’t think I understand.” Mina sat down in front of her.

“I’m putting people in danger, Mina. I’m the problem.”

...


	2. Chapter 2

_ Into whatever homes I go, I will enter them for the benefit of the sick, avoiding any voluntary act of impropriety or corruption, including the seduction of women or men, whether they are free men or slaves. _

…

Jeongyeon sat hunched over her desk with papers scattered across it. Her head rested on her hands with her fingers entwined in her hair. The weight of the world seemed to be pressing on her already exhausted frame. She rubbed her eyes as they felt as though they were about to fall out of their sockets after reading bank statement after bank statement. Each one was more depressing than the last. She went to school and opened her own practice to be a doctor, not a businesswoman or an accountant. 

Almost like the rays of the sun breaking through dark storm clouds, Sana cheerfully led a giggling child to the front of the clinic where his mother was waiting. He had a lollipop tucked in his cheek and a bright blue band-aid was stuck on his upper left arm.

Sana joined Jeongyeon’s practice about a year after it started, as many children were brought in along with their parents for check-ups. Jeongyeon needed someone to help her care for them, so she met with numerous pediatricians until she finally decided on Sana, an old friend she had met in the first year of their undergraduate program in university. They had been operating the clinic together for a few years now.

“Not even one tear out of this one, Mrs. Lee. He’s a very healthy boy.” Jeongyeon heard Sana tell the mother excitedly. She was born to work with children. Her demeanor, her way with people, everything made her the perfect pediatrician.

“Very good! Now how much do I owe you?” the patient’s mother asked, reaching into her bag.

“Don’t worry about it, ma’am.” Sana crouched down to the boy’s level. “All I need is for this little rockstar to keep doing what he’s doing.”

He broke into a huge smile and Sana ruffled his hair. 

“Are you sure, Dr. Minatozaki?”

“Definitely!” Sana’s response sent Jeongyeon’s head back into her hands. She bid farewell to the pair and joined Jeongyeon at the desk.

“Sana,” she sighed. 

“Yes, Jeongie?”

“You can’t keep doing that.”

“Giving kids lollipops?”

“No, Sana. Not charging people for our services.”

“I’m just trying to be nice.”

“Being nice doesn’t pay the bills. We’re behind on our payments.” Jeongyeon motioned with a pen to the series of documents spread before them.

Sana’s mouth dropped once she read the terrifying red numbers at the bottom of each one. Her eyes darted between her friend and the papers. She knew money was getting a little tight at the clinic, but she didn’t know the extent of the circumstances. The shrill ringing of the phone momentarily snapped her out of her panic.

“If we keep this up, the clinic might be able to survive another month or two.” Jeongyeon stood up to take the call. Sana remained at the desk, a million thoughts tumbling through her mind, but only a single one was coherent.

“Not everyone has the means to pay. We can’t just let the kids go without health care!” Sana blurted out once Jeongyeon came back.

“Of course not, but still, we can’t save all the children. We’re running a private practice. We have to turn a profit or we can’t care for anybody. This isn't some kind of board game where you can just hand out free money.” Jeongyeon gave her partner a firm pat on the knee before walking to the waiting room to greet her next patient.

“We can’t save all the children,” Sana repeated the phrase in a whisper. “Oh but I wish I could.”

…

Mina eventually got Jihyo off the floor and guided her to her office where she sat her down in the chair. Jihyo had calmed down for the most part, save for the occasional sniffing. Mina handed her some tissues to dry her face and blow her nose. The young neurologist pulled a stool up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Do you maybe want to talk about what happened out there?” Mina’s voice was delicate and soft. She focused primarily on the physical structures of the brain, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help with the emotional issues happening in there.

Jihyo took a deep breath in an attempt to soothe her nerves. “Well, I-” The pager clipped to Mina’s belt started buzzing, sufficiently cutting her off.

“One of my patients is seizing. You can stay here if you want. I’ll be right back.” Mina carefully rose to her feet and rushed out the door, leaving it open. 

Jihyo sat back in the cushioned chair, eyes focused on the tissue in her hands. It was an odd feeling to be sitting in the office of one of your colleagues, whom you’ve only interacted with at work and work-related events, yet feel so safe and secure. Many of Mina’s patients would have described her as warm but quiet, something Jihyo quickly realized as well.

She let her eyes roam the small room, tracing the shapes of potted plants and the numerous certificates hanging on the walls. The room was simple and overall minimally decorated. Her eyes landed on a small framed photograph sitting next to Mina’s computer. It was of Mina, but also not like any Mina Jihyo had ever seen. This Mina had a full pelvic cast on, which started just below her arms and ended at her ankles. Her face was swollen, was intubated, and had a G.I. tube inserted in her nose. Other than the very obvious differences, she looked very similar in terms of age, meaning the accident must have occured in the last year or so. Mina had only been transferred to work in the hospital only about a month ago from her previous one in Japan where she completed all her training, so she must have recovered at an impressive rate. Jihyo would have never guessed something like that would have happened to Mina of all people. As she examined the photo, a familiar shape stood in the doorway.

“Jihyo?” Nayeon’s tired voice croaked out.

She whipped her head around to see her friend’s puffy eyes and disheveled hair. They locked eyes for a moment until Jihyo answered with a quiet “Nayeon?”

“Jihyo, I was just wandering around the hospital looking for you and I’m, um-”

“Just say it,” Jihyo sighed.

“Jihyo, I’m really sorry for bringing up Ji- I mean, I’m really sorry for bringing up something so sensitive, especially during an argument and it was completely inappropriate and I get it if you don’t want to be my friend or even work with me anymore or even if you hate me and I’ll stay out of your way from now on.” Nayeon rambled out her apology with her fists clenched and eyes clamped shut. She cracked an eye open to see Jihyo staring back at her, her chin resting in the palm of her left hand.

“Nayeon,” she said after what seemed like a million years. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t? Even though I said-”

“I know what you said.”

“Then why don’t you hate me? You’re supposed to hate my guts. You’re supposed to want to cut me up into a bunch of little piec-”

“I’m not ignoring the fact that what you said hurt. It was awful, actually. It felt like my heart was being ripped out of a poorly healed wound and was crushed under the weight of a thousand worlds, but Im Nayeon, I don’t hate you.”

“Why not?”

“Because it was all my fault. I’m sorry, Nayeon. The surgery, Jihoon, everything. It was all me.” Tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. “I want to fix problems, but I’m causing so many more in the process.”

Nayeon walked over to Jihyo and sat down on the stool right next to her. Once seated, she placed a hand on Jihyo’s knee, rubbing small circles on the material of her pants.

“What are you getting at?”

“What I’m getting at is that I messed up. A lot. I was so stuck in my own head, putting my pride before the well being of my patients.” Jihyo wiped the stray tears from her eyes. They sat together in a comfortable silence for a moment.

“So what are we going to do about it?” Nayeon asked.

“I need to make amends. With Jeongyeon, with Sana, with that one resident, with Jihoon, with myself.” Jihyo said, moving her gaze to meet Nayeon’s.

“With Momo too?” Nayeon carefully asked.

Jihyo paused and moved her eyes back to the hand on her knee. “Yes, Momo too.”

“I’ll give her a call.” she gently squeezed Jihyo’s knee.

Mina stood waiting in the hallway now that her patient was stable. She saw Nayeon enter the room and wanted to give them some privacy, knowing they’re good friends. She leaned against the wall to take some of the uncomfortable pressure off her hips. She had had an impressively quick recovery concerning the severity of her injuries she had sustained, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t in pain most of the time.

…

After a long day of work, night had finally fallen and Dahyun, Chaeyoung, and Tzuyu sat together on Tzuyu’s couch. No one would have known of the tense interaction they shared earlier in the day. It was just a group of friends having a great time together on a Friday evening. 

They were deep into a game of Monopoly. Chaeyoung owned most of the properties, except for Tzuyu owning most of the utilities and railroads and Dahyun owning a few properties here and there. Dahyun, however, had the one property Chaeyoung wanted the most: Boardwalk.

“I will literally give you whatever you want for Boardwalk.” Chaeyoung fanned her cards in front of her face, showing off each one.

“Nah, I’m pretty content with what I have, Chae.”

Tzuyu tossed a piece of popcorn in the air in an attempt to catch it in her mouth. It bounced off her nose and onto the carpet. “You should have bought it when you had the chance.”

“Tzuyu, you know I didn’t have enough money to buy it when I landed on it the first time. Now that I have so much, I don’t know why she wouldn’t want to trade!” Chaeyoung raised her eyebrows at her tall friend.

“It’s because I’ve grown attached to it,” Dahyun teased.

“You can’t even put buildings on it. I have Park Place.”

“I know, but I still won’t give it to you.”

“I’ll have to pay you every time I land on it, though.”

“That’s literally the whole point of the game,” Tzuyu butted in.

A series of sharp knocks on the door brought the discussion to a halt with each of their heads turning toward the source of the sound.

“It’s the pizza!” Chaeyoung cheered from her new spot on the floor. She believed the lower angle could give her an advantage in the game even though she technically already had the lowest angle to begin with.

Tzuyu stood to grab her wallet, but was waved off by Dahyun. “Don’t worry about it. My treat.” Tzuyu sank back into the couch without any arguing, because no one says no to free pizza.

As she got up from her seat, she pointed a finger at Chaeyoung. “Don’t even think about stealing any of my stuff, Son.”

“Don’t worry, Kim. I only win games fair and square,” Chaeyoung said as she started to neatly stack little piles of her play money.

Dahyun pulled out a couple bills from her pocket and headed towards the door. As they waited for her to come back with the food, Tzuyu turned her attention to their small friend, who had stopped organizing her colorful slips of paper for a moment to stare in the direction of the door.

“Chae,” Tzuyu said, causing the older to snap her head around to look at her, her cheeks clearly flushed. “Thinking about someone special?”

A smile spread rapidly across her face when her friend’s eyes tripled in size and her complexion deepened a few more shades. Tzuyu leaned in a little closer to make sure the oldest of the trio couldn’t hear them. “Is it Dahyun?”

“I, um, well, nope,” Chaeyoung stumbled through her pathetic answer.

“Mhm, right.” Tzuyu leaned back in her seat, eyes flickering from Dahyun to Chaeyoung. Chaeyoung moved her eyes back to focus on her cards and money after they slipped back to their friend for a second.

“I just want Boardwalk,” Chaeyoung protested loudly.

“Chae, I already told you, you could give me half the board, and I still wouldn’t give you Boardwalk,” Dahyun laughed after shutting the door with the cardboard box in hand.

She placed it beside their game and grabbed a slice for herself before turning it toward her friends. Chaeyoung tried and failed to avert her eyes from her, only making it even clearer to Tzuyu. After a few more hours of playing, they counted up their money and properties to determine the winner. Chaeyoung came out on top by a mile, Tzuyu was in second, and Dahyun was in dead last. 

“Hey Chae, shouldn’t you be parading around the table right now?” Dahyun asked her, lightly punching her arm.

“What, no, I’m not one to gloat or anything like that.” Thankfully the low lighting hid the rapidly forming blush on her cheeks.

Tzuyu’s lips curled into a mischievous smirk. “It’s because you never gave her Boardwalk.” 


	3. Chapter 3

_ Whatever I see or hear in the lives of my patients, whether in connection with my professional practice or not, which ought not to be spoken of outside, I will keep secret, as considering all such things to be private. _

…

_ “You look so nice in your school clothes.” Jihyo smiled as she straightened her son’s collar. _

_ “You say that about everything I wear,” Jihoon mentioned, running a hand through his hair . _

_ “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t the truth.” She pulled on a light jacket. “I’m sorry Dad and I can’t drive you to school this year. As soon as one of us can get our schedules changed, we’ll do it in a heartbeat.” _

_ “It’s alright, Mom. I like riding the city bus,” he said, earning a firm kiss on the forehead. _

_ “You’re so mature for your age.” _

_ “I’m 14.” _

_ “More mature than I was at your age. When Dad wakes up, tell him I already left and breakfast is on the stove.”  _

_ “Yes Mom.” _

_ “I’ll see you when you get home from school. I love you.” Jihyo grabbed her work bag and closed the door behind her. _

_ “Love you too.” _

_ Jihoon watched as his mother pulled her car out of the driveway and drove down the street towards the hospital. He quickly downed what was left of his breakfast and put his school supplies together, allotting him enough time so he wouldn’t miss the bus. _

... __

Jihyo stood in front of the door to Dr. Hirai’s office in the hospital across town. After the incident, Momo transferred hospitals for both her and Jihyo’s sake. Jihyo hadn’t spoken to her since then, but now she was standing there alone. Nayeon had offered to go with her, but she refused, wanting to settle things herself, however, she couldn’t hide the fact she was nervous and dreading this very moment. She could just run and avoid this whole thing. She could keep hiding from everything that hurts. Everything could stay the same, yet for a bone to heal properly, it must go through the painful process of being set into place. 

She took a deep breath and moved a shaky fist up to knock. As she brought it back to strike the door, someone on the other side swiftly swung it open.

“Oh Jihyo, I’ve been expecting you, please come in.” Momo opened the door wider and motioned for her to enter.

Jihyo dipped her head as she passed her and entered the office. It was decorated very similarly to how it was at Jihyo’s hospital, save for the lack of photos. Momo would have pictures of her friends and family lining her desk and hanging from the walls, but those have since been replaced by her certificates and posters describing things like proper posture and nutrition. 

“Please have a seat.” Momo pulled out the chair sitting adjacent to her desk. Momo sat in her desk chair and Jihyo followed suit. “Nayeon told me you wanted to talk. I think I know what about.”

Jihyo looked down at her hands, her knuckles white. Her breaths were shallow and her eyes started to burn. She tilted her head back to keep the tears contained.

_ “Mom, please it hurts.” _

_ “Everything will be okay, baby.” _

“I want to talk about what happened,” Jihyo said with a slight quiver in her voice.

Momo rolled her chair closer to her, but still kept a safe distance. She didn’t want to cause anymore harm, even if it was accidental.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make things worse for you. I know how hard it is to lose-”

“Momo, I’m sure. I want to fix things. Maybe I’ll finally be able to heal.” Jihyo scooted closer to Momo and rested a hand on top of hers.

Momo looked up to her eyes, trying to discern any apprehension. All she could see was a woman in pain who wanted it to stop. It was her job to fix people and care for them, so why stop now with someone whom she would have once referred to as her best friend?

“Okay. So where should we start?” Momo let out a long sigh.

“I guess the surgery is a good place.”

…

_ “Get me Hirai,” Jihyo ordered while trying to add pressure to the site of the injury. The white bone shard was protruding from his abdomen. _

_ “Yes Dr. Park.” A nurse hurried down the hall toward the orthopedic ward. _

_ “Prep the O.R.” Jihyo packed the wound with gauze and wrapped him tightly in bandages. _

_ “Mom, am I gonna die?” Jihoon’s voice was thin and a stream of red ran out of his mouth with every breath. _

_ For a moment, the stern exterior of Dr. Park broke down into Mom. Her baby was bleeding out in front of her, and she could only do so much. A wet trail made its way down her face before getting disrupted by her sleeve. _

_ “No, you’ll be okay. My sweet boy, you’ll be okay. I swear, you’ll be okay.” Jihyo stumbled through an answer. _

_ “Dr. Park, Dr. Hirai is on her way,” the nurse panted, having just come back from running around the hospital. _

_ Jihyo looked at her and nodded. She knelt down and brushed her son’s hair off his forehead. She placed a firm kiss on the skin and backed away for a moment to take in his features. Every bit of who she was was encapsulated in this person. His eyes were hers. The wonder and hope that normally filled them was replaced by pure terror. She took one last look at those eyes before they took him away to get prepped for surgery. Jihyo stood there, powerless. Her feet were cemented to the hospital tiles as she watched the nurses push his bed down the hallway. _

_ “Excuse me, Dr. Park?” a voice asked from behind her. _

_ She turned her head to look over her shoulder and was greeted by a tall girl in scrubs. Her long brown hair was swept up into a bun and her hands were clasped in front of her. _

_ “Yes?” Jihyo’s voice came out just barely above a whisper. _

_ “I don’t want to intrude, but I’m one of the gastro residents here and I-” _

_ “Then don’t intrude,” Jihyo said before turning to get herself prepared for surgery. _

_ She left the trauma center and jogged to the operating room, leaving the young doctor there. She pushed through the heavy doors to not just see Momo there, but Sana as well. They were both drying their hands while discussing the details of the surgery. _

_ “Sana, what are you doing here?” Jihyo asked, taking some soap in her palm and lathering it. _

_ “I called her in for the extra help. I was thinking that a pediatrician could help out a lot with this,” Momo explained. _

_ “Are you even experienced in surgery at all?” _

_ “I was a pediatric surgeon before opting for the clinic life,” Sana said as a scrub tech pulled the gown onto her. “Don’t worry, I’ve kept up on my credentials.” _

_ Jihyo paused for a moment as she watched what was happening through the glass pane. Nayeon had started an IV on her son and two nurses moved him to the operating table once he was unconscious. Although they were professionals, she had to make sure they were treating Jihoon correctly. _

_ “Jihyo, you shouldn’t be operating on your own son, especially with a surgery like this and how emotional you must be right now.” Sana’s sweet voice broke her away from her thoughts. _

_ “I will be doing it.” _

_ Momo joined the discussion. “Jihyo, please, this isn’t a good idea. Let someone else help you for once-” _

_ “I’m the only one who knows exactly what he needs. I am his mother.” _

_ “Jihyo-” _

_ “Shut it Minatozaki.” _

_ With two-thirds of their surgical team feeling especially wary and the head of it an emotional wreck, they entered the operating room. Nayeon was already situated at Jihoon’s head with an array of monitors surrounding her. Her phone was against her ear. _

_ “It’s Jeongyeon,” she said in a hushed tone, covering the microphone. “She wants to talk to you, Jihyo.” _

_ “Put her on speaker.” Jihyo pulled the tray of instruments closer to her and Nayeon tapped on the speaker button. “Yoo, make it quick.” _

_ “Jihyo, you and I both know you should not be the one performing this surgery. Sana told me about it and this is not smart at all.” Jeongyeon insisted through the speaker. _

_ “I’m doing this Jeongyeon.” Jihyo picked up the scalpel with a shaky hand. “I know what’s best for my son.” _

_ “You should never perform surgery on a loved one. Don’t let your emotions get in the way of ethics and a potentially life saving operation. What about that oath you took all those years ago, huh?” Jeongyeon paused for a moment before continuing. “Does that not mean anything to you? Because if it did, then you’d know exactly what you shouldn’t be doing right now.” _

_ “End the call,” Jihyo ordered Nayeon, her grip tightening on the tool. _

_ Nayeon stared back at her friend, almost scared to move a muscle. She didn’t want to upset her, but she knew exactly who was correct. _

_ “Jihyo,” Jeongyeon started. _

_ “Nayeon, come on. I said end the call,” Jihyo almost screamed at her, snapping her out of her thoughts. _

_ With a heavy heart, Nayeon pressed the red icon, sufficiently cutting off her other friend. She placed her phone in her pocket and turned her attention back to the monitors. Jihyo pulled the drape back to see her son’s broken and bloodied body. She choked back quiet sobs as she unwrapped his wounds and removed the gauze, exposing his injuries. His left femur had snapped in half with the lower half being pushed into his abdomen, puncturing and impaling several organs. Momo prepared her Gigli saw as Jihyo and Sana worked hurriedly to remove tissue and suture arteries and numerous other structures.  _

_ They had to work quickly, but carefully. His blood pressure was dropping to dangerous levels with each additional bit of blood lost. Accidentally shifting the bone, the one thing preventing him from bleeding out, too soon would be detrimental to say the least. Unfortunately in her incredibly emotional and shaken state, Jihyo happened to do just that. _

…

“And he bled out.” Jihyo was numb as she recalled the events. “I should have taken him to school. I shouldn’t have even attempted that surgery in the first place. Now he’s gone. My baby, my Jihoon, my everything. Gone.”

Her shoulders started to shake and Momo broke through the invisible barrier to pull her into a tight hug. A wet spot began to form on Momo’s shoulder as Jihyo let sobs tear through her. Her heart broke again with each shake of the woman’s body.

“I’m so sorry, Jihyo. I’m so so sorry.” Momo started to cry with her.

They sat there for awhile, remaining within the safe space of each others’ arms. Even once the tears stopped, they sat there for a time. It was comfortable, yet foreign at the same time. The atmosphere could have easily been suffocating considering the circumstances. They were trapped in a paradox. Momo lightly rubbed small circles on Jihyo’s back.

“Jihyo?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Hm?”

“I’m so sorry. I wish things didn’t have to end up like this.”

“No, Momo.” Jihyo pulled away to look at her face. Her eyes were puffy and her complexion was blotchy. “I’m sorry for pushing you and everyone else away. It wasn’t your fault any of this happened. I was just in so much pain, I guess I couldn’t bear to take the pain of everything being my fault too.”

“I guess I left because I didn’t want to be a reminder of what you lost.” Momo handed Jihyo a box of tissues, but not before taking one for herself.

“Momo, I truly feel awful about that. I hate that you felt you had to uproot your whole life for me.”

“I did it more for me, to be honest. I didn’t want to be reminded of what I did to you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong Momo. Looking back on it now, I don’t know if we could have done anything to save him in the first place.”

They sat there silently for a moment as the gears turned at a rapid pace in Momo’s head. 

“I think we both know what has to happen now. You should probably talk to the other people involved on that day.”

Jihyo nodded and Momo stood to pull her into another hug before she left. Once outside of Momo’s hospital, Jihyo fished through her bag for her phone. She scrolled through her contacts before deciding on one. She pressed the green button and brought the device to her ear.

“Sana? Hi, it’s Jihyo. Is Jeongyeon there too? Could I come over right now? It’s kind of important.”

…

Jihyo arrived outside an older brick apartment complex. She referred to her phone for which unit they were in before ascending the stairs. Once at the appropriate door, she knocked on it firmly. She was still nervous, but had a newfound confidence after her meeting with Momo. After some struggling with the door, Sana opened it wide enough for Jeongyeon to be in view as well.

“Jihyo! Please come in, come in,” Sana greeted her in her trademark cheery voice.

Jihyo stepped inside, the faint smell of mold and cheap air fresheners permeated her nose. Jeongyeon was sitting at their kitchen table, which was just an old card table with a vinyl tablecloth. The wallpaper was peeling and the drywall beneath was cracking. 

“Sorry about the place. We moved in together and cut our pay to help keep the clinic afloat for a little while longer.” Sana pulled out one of the folding chairs around the table. “Please sit.”

Jihyo took the seat across from Jeongyeon and Sana took the seat adjacent to her.

“What do you want, Jihyo?” Jeongyeon said once they were all seated.

“Please Jeongyeon, use your kind words,” Sana scolded.

“How do you expect me to be kind when she just completely pushed us away when we were just trying to help her?” she snapped back, heat boiling up in her face.

“Actually,” Jihyo spoke up carefully and calculated exactly what she should be saying. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you two about.”

Jeongyeon sat back in her chair with a scowl etched on her face. Sana placed a gentle hand on her knee to keep her calm, which worked almost immediately. The burning in her veins subsided and she took a deep breath. “Alright, what do you want to talk about?”

“I wanted to apologize for what happened on that day. I’m sorry for not listening to you, Jeong. I’m sorry for pushing you both away. I was emotional and angry, but I want to take responsibility. You can’t save everyone. It was all my fault for thinking I could.” Jihyo kept her eyes focused on her hands which were clasped together on the table in front of her.

They sat there for a period of time, the air thick with tension and apprehension. That was shattered when Jihyo heard a sniffle from across the table. Her head snapped up to Sana fanning her eyes and looking toward the ceiling. Jeongyeon’s arm was now draped across her shoulders and her own head was tilted downwards.

“Jihyo, I’m touched.” Sana took a deep breath and turned her gaze to the woman sitting across from her. “I was so caught up on that.”

Jihyo looked at them with her eyebrows furrowed, asking for some kind of explanation. Jeongyeon kept her head down, and Sana rested hers on her shoulder.

“Ever since the incident, she’s wanted to save every child she’s come across. She takes everyone in, regardless of quite literally anything.” Jeongyeon wiped her nose with her sleeve and looked up across the table. “She’s thought it was her fault the whole time. Her whole career has been so focused on helping and saving children, that she really struggled with losing her friend’s child, especially when you pushed her away.”

“Sana, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” Jihyo reached across the table to hold one of Sana’s hands. “I feel terrible.”

“Don’t, Jihyo.” Sana cleared her throat. “You were going through so much worse than us. Our clinic may be failing, but you lost your son because of a freak bus accident.”

“But that doesn’t make up for what I did to you. My pain isn't an excuse for that,” she said, her eyes scanning their faces.

Jeongyeon tilted her head up and moved her eyes to meet Sana’s. They gave each other a small, knowing nod and turned back to Jihyo.

“It’s going to take some time to be completely okay, especially with the strain on our friendship and business, but we forgive you.” Jeongyeon took the lead. “Just you coming here and talking to us like this is a start to fixing everything.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jihyo asked earnestly.

“Right now, I think we just need time. Time to get back on track. Time to get back on our feet. Time to heal. How much time do we need? I don’t know, but Jihyo, I know everything will get better. Even-” Sana’s voice began to crack again. “Even if we can’t save all the children.”

They sat together in a calm silence until the sunlight turned into a warm orange, then purple, and eventually died out for the day. It was something the three of them had craved for a number of weeks now; just being with each other and feeling safe. Since it was getting late, Jihyo decided it would be best to leave, as she had rotations in the morning, so Jeongyeon and Sana led her to the door to bid their farewell. Then the unexpected happened: Jeongyeon pulled Jihyo into a hug. Jeongyeon was never much of a hugger, so when she would succumb to the physical contact, it was always a special occasion. She leaned closer to Jihyo’s ear and whispered a quiet yet audible, “Thank you.”

Jihyo responded with a tight squeeze before breaking the hug and stepping out of the apartment. Her friends waved goodbye and watched as she walked down the long hallway and eventually turned a corner, disappearing from sight.

…

Jihyo pulled her car into the driveway of her once lively and joyful, but now empty home. Upon entering the house, she kicked off her shoes and headed upstairs. Exhausted, she was skipping dinner to get some sleep instead, especially with a long shift beginning in the morning.

She hung her jacket in her half empty closet and changed into some pajamas. She trudged across the carpeted floor and fell onto her half empty bed. Shortly after the incident, Jihoon’s father left Jihyo. He never came to terms with it and left her completely alone to deal with everything herself. He planned and set out to move across the country within hours after it happened. It took less than a day for her whole family to fall apart and disappear. 

What’s strange about love is that it keeps growing without running out of space. Love can so easily become unquantifiable, but once it’s gone, the gaping hole left behind refuses to shrink. A life that was once so dense with love is hollow without it. The hole burrows through not only the heart, but in every aspect of life. It’s the smell you can’t quite get out of your clothes, no matter how much you wash them. It gives other people so much power over you that they can reciprocate and make everything alright or tear you down like some poorly hung sheet. Love in its purest form is nothing short of terrifying. 

Jihyo glanced at the space beside her and hesitantly stretched her hand out to touch it, almost scared it would hurt. The abandoned sheets against her hand always burned, but never physically.

“You jerk,” she breathed. “I hate you.”

She didn’t hate him. In fact, she still loved him dearly, but perhaps hated that he left so easily on his part. She missed him too.

_ “Why are you putting those suitcases in your car?” _

_ “I just can’t stay here anymore. It’s too much.” _

_ “Don’t you think it’s too much for me? I’m the one who had to fill out his death certificate!” _

_ “Jihyo, please-” _

_ “Don’t you wonder if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself? Doesn’t that mean anything to you? I’m hurting too, but you don’t see me running away!” _

Maybe she hated the fact he was able to pack everything into his car while she had so much that it couldn’t fit anywhere in any physical container. Maybe the pain and the fear filled the overwhelming space their love once occupied.

...


	4. Chapter 4

_ I swear by Apollo the physician, and Asclepius, and Hygieia and Panacea and all the gods and goddesses as my witnesses, that, according to my ability and judgement, I will keep this Oath and this contract _

…

Jihyo showed up to her shift a little earlier than expected that morning. Her steps were lighter, but still her heart was weighed down. Losing someone close to you is like an earthquake. The magnitude is always the same, but as you move farther away from the epicenter, the intensity tends to die down. She will always be experiencing that high magnitude, but the intensity will get lighter with time. However, something kept Jihyo planted at the epicenter.

Jihyo walked down the hallway to her office to get some paperwork done. She passed a familiar face.

“Mina, how are you?” she asked, causing the other woman to look up at her. “I thought you didn’t have to come in today?”

Mina was dressed in exercise attire and carried a gym bag with her. Her long hair was pulled into a ponytail.

“Oh I’m fine. You know, physical therapy,” she let out a small chuckle. “I schedule it for the days I don’t have work.”

“Physical therapy?” Jihyo quickly remembered the photo in her office. “Is everything okay?”

“Pretty much. I was in a really bad bus accident while I was touring the area a little before I was supposed to move to this hospital, but I’ve recovered really fast so it’s no big deal.”

Jihyo paused for a moment. A bus accident. She knew of a bus accident.

“Mina?”

“Yes, Jihyo?”

“I don’t want to be rude, but where was this accident?”

“Oh, it was just a couple blocks north of here. It’s a good thing the hospital was so close. There was this teenager who sat next to me and-”

_ “Prepare the trauma bays! There was an accident just a few blocks north. One bus. Several with serious injuries.” _

“Mina, after your session could you meet me in my office for a little bit?”

“Of course.” She smiled before pushing the door to the physical therapy facility open.

Jihyo watched the door close behind her and entered her own office. A thick stack of documents was waiting for her on her desk. She parked herself on her swivel chair and wiggled her mouse, waking up the computer monitor. She tried to focus on the work, but her thoughts swayed between the spreadsheets of patient information and Mina.

After an hour or so of Jihyo’s brain being thrown back and forth, there was a soft knock on her door. She jumped at the noise and rushed to answer it. At the entrance of the room was Mina. She had a light sheen of sweat on her forehead and she was visibly tired, yet had a small smile on her face.

“Mina please come in.” Jihyo gestured for her to enter and lead her to one of her extra chairs. “Please, have a seat.”

After some adjusting, she was comfortable in the seat and Jihyo returned to her desk chair.

“So Jihyo, what did you want to see me for?” Mina asked politely.

“I wanted to talk to you about the accident.”

“Ah, that.” Mina shifted uncomfortably in the chair.

“But not if you don’t want to talk about it,” Jihyo frantically assured her. “It’s just I think my son may have been on that bus with you and talking about it might help me find some kind of closure and take this heavy weight off my heart.”

“Jihyo, I’m so sorry. He didn’t make it, did he?”

“No. Mina, please can you tell me what happened on the bus?”

Mina thought for a moment before answering her. “Sure. What do you want to discuss about it?”

Relieved, Jihyo said, “You mentioned something about a teenager?”

“Yes, we sat next to each other. He was maybe a little taller than me and had brown hair. It covered his forehead. He was wearing a collared shirt and had a backpack in his lap”

“Jihoon,” Jihyo whispered under her breath.

“He looked a little nervous riding by himself, so I struck up a conversation with him. He told me his parents had to go to work in the morning, so he would have to take the bus to school every day.”

Another pang of guilt shook through Jihyo’s ribs.

“We were chatting about things like what classes he was in and the music he liked to listen to. You know, the typical teenage boy stuff.” Mina’s throat tightened as she continued. “Then I guess the brakes failed or we hit something, I don’t know, because the next thing I remember is getting thrown around the bus as it rolled.”

Jihyo got closer to her and gave her arm a light squeeze. “You don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”

Mina shook her head in response.

“No, you deserve to know. You’re his mother.” Mina took a deep breath before continuing. “I remember him screaming. I looked for him everywhere until I finally spotted him under a seat. He was bleeding, but not as much as if that bone wasn’t lodged in that position. I couldn’t walk, so I scooted over to him and sat with him until the paramedics came. He kept screaming in pain and was crying so much. I tried to calm him down, but I blacked out at one point. Although I may have been slightly comforting, I wasn’t who he wanted. He just wanted his mom.”

Jihyo took a shaky breath before she said, “Thank you, Mina. So much. Are you okay though?”

“My injuries were pretty severe. I broke my pelvis and had a ton of internal bleeding in my stomach and intestines. I was in a cast for a little bit, but there’s nothing some screws and physical therapy can’t fix. Also, one of the gastro residents here is very talented and was able to fix the bleeding remarkably well.”

“The resident.” Jihyo suddenly remembered. “Mina, would you happen to know the name of the gastro resident?”

“Ah yes, Dr. Chou. She’s very nice and also very tall, like what’s up with that-”

“Thank you so much. I know it must have been really difficult for you to relive that whole thing, and I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, Jihyo. It was a pleasure to meet your son. You raised him very well.”

Her heart clenched at Mina’s words and could only offer a small smile without falling apart into a million pieces all over again. After Mina left her office to go home, her words still ran laps around Jihyo’s mind.

_ “It was a pleasure to meet your son. You raised him very well.” _

_ “He just wanted his mom.” _

Jihyo sat back in her chair and looked up at that small framed photograph. The printed eyes stared back at her, but her reaction was one of less hurt and more of gratitude. The weight still crushed her heart, but maybe this could help take off some of the pressure.

…

A few hours after Jihyo and Mina’s meeting, the surgeon found herself at one of the nurse stations. She was getting some of the details for a later surgery worked out with some of the nurses. She wanted two nurses and an extra surgeon in with her for this one. Another doctor walked up to the station.

“Dr. Chou, here’s the lab results you requested,” one of the nurses said.

“Dr. Chou?” Jihyo walked up to the young doctor.

“Yes?” she kept her eyes focused on the chart she was just handed. When she glanced up, it looked as though she had seen a ghost. “Oh, Dr. Park! Yes, hello, I’m Dr. Chou.”

“Look, I just wanted to apologize for snapping at you a couple weeks back.” she watched as the tension melted out of her body. “Emotions were high and I was rude about you being a resident, so I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Dr. Park. I understand.” Her dimples appeared.

Jihyo turned back to her paperwork when another doctor came to the desk.

“Hey Tzuyu.”

“Hey Dahyun. How’s your day been?”

“I’m over the moon right now. Remember that transplant I did a couple weeks ago?”

“Oh yeah, how is she now?”

“Great! She and her parents came in for a quick check-up today and everything’s healing so nicely.”

“Are you still sensitive talking about where the heart came from?” 

“Well, how he died was really tragic, but I’m glad he was able to save someone-” Dahyun turned to see Jihyo staring at her. “Dr. Park!”

She almost jumped out of her skin, earning a chuckle from the senior doctor. Jihyo glanced down at her ID card for her name.

“Dr. Kim, could you tell me a little about this procedure?”

“Oh, um yeah, so you have to first make an incision-”

“No, Dr. Kim, I mean can you tell me about where the heart came from?”

“Um.” Dahyun leaned over the desk to whisper something into one of the more experienced nurse’s ear. The nurse nodded in response and led them to a more private room for the sake of trying to uphold HIPAA laws.

“The only name on the file was ‘Jihoon’,” Dahyun told her.

The weight in Jihyo’s own heart quivered with her voice. “Could you tell me when this was and the cause of death?”

“Complications due to an automobile accident a couple weeks ago.”

It was confirmed.

“Kim, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but that’s my son’s heart.”

Dahyun paused, unsure of how to respond. She finally said, “Oh. Well, it’s a very good heart. It saved a little girl’s life.” She fidgeted with the badge clipped to her coat pocket.

_ “It’s a very good heart.” _

Jihyo nodded at the younger doctor and began to leave. She thought that perhaps learning the fate of her son’s heart would relieve the stress on her own, but it remained. At this point, nothing could help her move on. She knew she could never move on from her son and the joy he was in her life, but she had to move on from the pain of his loss or it would swallow her whole.

“Dr. Park?” Dahyun called back to her, causing her head to turn toward her. “You could meet her. If you want to, I mean.”

Jihyo pondered on those words for a moment. Would she be able to handle it? Would it even help her heal? Would it just make it worse?

“I’d love that.”

“Okay! I’ll check with the family and I’ll let you know when they come back in.”

“Thank you Dr. Kim.” Jihyo left the room.

…

Weeks after her initial meeting with Dahyun, Jihyo sat outside of the younger doctor’s office. She bounced her leg nervously and played with her fingers. She was going to meet the recipient of her son’s heart. She was going to meet the girl her son saved and she was inside that office, just a door away.

“Dr. Park.” Dahyun poked her head out of the room, her eyes landing on Jihyo. “We’re ready for you.”

Jihyo leapt to her feet but apprehensively approached the entrance. Dahyun placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and led her into the room. There was a little girl sitting in a chair with her mother and father sitting off to the side, tissues already in hand. She had the biggest, most beautiful brown eyes and they were focused intently on the older doctor.

“Dr. Park, I want you to meet someone very special.” Dahyun helped Jihyo into a chair adjacent to the girl. “This is Seoyeon.”

What do you say to the person who physically has your son’s heart? No combination of words seems to fit. None of them are good enough. What do you say to the person who gets to live because your son died?

“Hi,” Seoyeon whispered, in awe of Jihyo.

“Hi.” she whispered back, tears forming in her eyes.

“Do you want to hear it?” the girl asked, staring back at her. There was whimsy in her voice: a childlike wonder Jihyo had long forgotten about.

“Yeah,” she answered in the same tone.

Dahyun removed the stethoscope from around her neck and placed it in Jihyo’s trembling hands. Jihyo put the earpieces in her ears and placed the end on the left side of the girl’s chest. The room was silent, allowing for the woman to hear what was physically left of her son. 

At the first heartbeat, she broke down. The last time she had heard it was right before she lost her son. It was when everything changed for her. It was when she lost her purpose. In this moment with Seoyeon, she felt as though, for the first time in months, that everything was going to be okay. That was the first time in so long that her own heart felt light, because her son’s lived on. It physically lived on in not only the chest cavity of Seoyeon, but in every facet of Jihyo’s life. Jihoon was not gone forever. He was in every breath the young girl took and in everything his mother did. From that moment onward, Jihyo promised to herself that she would live in a way that Jihoon would be proud of her. Before she was anything, and especially before she was Dr. Park, she was Mom.

…

Chaeyoung and Tzuyu waited in a break room for Dahyun to finish up her shift so they could walk out to their cars together. They knew what she was doing with Jihyo and Seoyeon, so they patiently waited in the nearly empty room. Chaeyoung was focused on reading the label on her orange soda and Tzuyu scrolled mindlessly through her phone.

“It’s crazy that this little can of soda has 28 grams of sugar. That’s a lot.” Chaeyoung took another sip from her drink.

“Yep, it is.” A thought suddenly popped into her mind. The three of them were normally joined at the hip, but with Dahyun absent for the moment, it was the perfect opportunity to ask Chaeyoung about her.

“So Chae.”

“Hm?” Her cheeks were full of soda before she swallowed it. “What’s up?”

“Have you talked to Dahyun about, well you know, your crush?” Tzuyu leaned in closer on the last few words.

“Why would I tell her about my soda? She doesn’t drink Crush and I think she’d read the label-”

“No Chae.” she brought her hands up to rub the sides of her head. “The feelings you have for her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chaeyoung asserted, earning a glare from Tzuyu. “Okay, fine. I haven’t”

“How come?”

“I’m out of her league.” Another glare. “Fine. It’s just that I don’t want to ruin things.”

“I understand, but who knows, she might feel the same way about you.” Tzuyu saw the door to the room open. “Dahyun! Over here!”

Chaeyoung kept her eyes focused on her Crush, desperate not to look at her other one. She only looked up at her once she arrived at their table. Her eyes were puffy and her face was a light pink. They understood how emotional those first meetings could be, so they both stood up to wrap her in a group hug.

“Are you guys ready to go?” she croaked out.

Together, they made their way to the parking lot. The journey there was mostly silent, save for the noises of the hospital. They made sure Dahyun got to her car safely, knowing how she could get when emotional. Before they left her, Dahyun gave them each one more hug. Once she pulled away from Chaeyoung, she placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. While she became disoriented for a minute, something deep in Chaeyoung screamed. She couldn’t place her finger on it, but something wasn’t quite right.

They parted ways and went to their own cars. As Chaeyoung settled in her driver’s seat, something cruel rang in her skull.

_ “Chae, I already told you, you could give me half the board, and I still wouldn’t give you Boardwalk.” _

It was cruel because it was true. No matter the potential gestures or confessions, Dahyun would never give her Boardwalk.

...

Ah! That's the end of Hippocratic Oath. This was my first fic, so I wanted to start out small, but I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> follow me on twitter: @likeadubu


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